


we’re lost in a dream that’s too good to forget (love-drunk off the taste of this kiss)

by Yellow_Bird_On_Richland



Series: It's different and it's working, oh, you make me nervous (the Annie/Britta AU Collection) [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Abed/Troy (mentioned), Bisexual Britta Perry, Established Annie/Britta Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Kink Exploration, Lesbian Annie is low-key a freak in bed and no one can convince me otherwise, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Porn with some plot, lesbian Annie Edison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland/pseuds/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland
Summary: You’d never guess that Annie would get the two of you more or less kicked out of a bar.But then, her surprises only make her more compelling, and now you have an excuse to take her home early, so you’re hardly going to complain.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Series: It's different and it's working, oh, you make me nervous (the Annie/Britta AU Collection) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835497
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	we’re lost in a dream that’s too good to forget (love-drunk off the taste of this kiss)

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a future continuation of my other Annie/Britta fic, “didn’t know rebellion could taste so sweet.” Set sometime in S3.
> 
> Written from Britta’s perspective in second person because differentiating between two women in a fic that doesn’t prominently feature any of the other characters got a bit challenging.

"Do you want one more drink before we head out, Britta?" Annie asks over the Friday night din of Briar Common Brewery + Eatery. You'd come here at Abed and Troy's joint recommendation and are glad you did; you'd happily order the portabella burger and house fries again, the beer selection is expansive and fairly priced, and the bubbly cheese, tangy sauce, and chewy crust of Annie's wood-fired pizza all came together perfectly.

You check your watch. The night's still young, only a bit after eight. "Mmm, yes please, if you're buying. I could go for a cocktail," you answer, glancing at the drinks menu. Nothing's jumping out at you, though, so you say, "You know what I like. Surprise me."

Annie nods happily and alights from her stool. You watch as she approaches the bar, trying not to ogle her, but it's all too easy to appreciate how her hips swing in a dark blue mini skirt that's borderline risqué. Getting to help modify and upscale her wardrobe has paid off handsomely for you.

She turns back to look, feeling your gaze on her, and offers a half-smirk and a wink before getting the bartender's attention, and you still can't believe she's been your girlfriend for a bit over four months.

For you, establishing a successful, semi-long-term adult relationship, by itself, would be cause for cheering. Having one with Annie Edison, then, is surely worth a parade or two.

It's been a change, to have someone dote on you, to make you a priority. Stranger, still, that you've reciprocated, nay, happily accepted the fact that the two of you are linked as girlfriends, in an actual relationship. It's occasionally frightening—you're 93% over the age gap now, but still worry sometimes about your slacker tendencies worming their way into Annie and infecting her ambition to break into healthcare and hospital administration.

You've realized, though, that dating someone you genuinely like makes you want to be a better person; go figure. So you've started working harder in school, helping her get the study group sessions to focus on, well, studying. You now use the planner Annie bought you recently when the two of you went to Barnes and Noble recently and find, _"Holy shit, writing stuff down keeps me organized."_ And you actually translate some of your thoughts about injustice into action and convince Greendale's library to invest in more LGBTQ+-friendly literature to create a more inclusive campus.

Okay, truthfully, you and Annie will also check out some of those books, but still, your slight selfishness has a good end goal. You've even cut down on smoking weed, limiting it mostly to lazy weekends and, sometimes, the movie marathons that Annie and the boys put on.

You like to think you've helped Annie grow, too. She pays closer attention to power structures at Greendale now and, at your urging, has added a handful of news sites to her regular reading rotation for a diverse span of perspectives. While she'll never be as brash as you are, she's more willing to speak her mind; her taking Pierce to task for one too many scissoring comments with her refined debate skills will forever be one of your favorite examples. Or when Chang had, predictably, yelled "gaaayyy!" at the two of you for holding hands while you were heading to the parking lot and Annie had just quirked an eyebrow at him, kissed your cheek, and coolly responded, "Yeah, that's kinda the point."

Despite telling Annie you wanted your drink to be a surprise, you survey what she's ordering. It looks like a gin and tonic for herself (her usual) and possibly an Old Fashioned for you. Not necessarily what you would've picked, but a good choice, nevertheless. Your eyes narrow as you see a guy approach her with more swagger than you think is necessary. Not that you're jealous, or at all distrustful—you're not Ross from Friends, no way—but you've been hit on by your fair share of creeps at bars, even more well-to-do establishments like this; the male ego seemingly knows no bounds. He tosses a $20 down on the bar for the drinks before conversing with Annie, then nods in your direction. He leans in and apparently tells a joke, and Annie gives him a fuller smile before offering a handshake.

" _Ok,"_ you think to yourself, _"maybe he's a friend of a friend or knows her from a class or something."_

At that moment, Annie tosses her drink in his face, drawing gasps from the surrounding patrons, pushes his money away, and puts down her own $20 on the bar, then strides back to you quickly.

You're too stunned to do anything for a second, but Annie's tugging at you and you're hustling double-time down the stairs of the brewpub to the first floor before you get your voice back. "Why'd you do that?"

"He wanted to know if I was here with anyone, and I told him I was on a date with my girlfriend. He asked, and I quote, 'Can I be the meat in your lesbo lady sandwich?'" she answers grimly. "Felt like he deserved getting a gin and tonic shower. Sorry I didn't think to bring your cocktail with me."

You nod, still a touch disbelieving at what just happened. Your eyes go wide at the sight of the unoccupied karaoke machine on the first floor. "Did you happen to get that guy's name, babe?"

"Mark Kostas," she confirms, frowning as she works out what you're going to do.

You beeline for the mic, even as Annie's trying to direct you toward the door, and switch it on. "Good evening, ladies," you announce brightly. "I just want to say, if a guy with brown hair named Mark Kostas approaches you tonight, avoid him, because he's a massive douche." You over-pronounce the last word to get a few laughs, and quickly explain, before security gets any closer, "He propositioned my girlfriend about the possibility of us sleeping with him, like a tool. So, yeah, that's all. Stay beautiful, and good night, Briar Common!" you yell before jamming the mic back on the stand and finally dashing outside, clutching Annie's hand as you go. The two of you speedwalk until you've created sufficient distance away from the establishment and the absolute chaos of what just happened hits both of you at once, and you're each nearly doubled over, cracking up.

"He's a massive dooouche," Annie imitates you between laughs.

"I mean, he was! Or is," you answer, grinning. "By the way, Annie, that was fucking badass. I haven't thrown a drink on a guy in forever."

She shrugs, but her mega-watt smile gives away how pleased she is at your description. "It wasn't all me," she admits, blushing. "I channeled, probably, 60% you wanting to smash the patriarchy, 35% me being fed up with disgusting men, and 5% Caroline Decker causing a shitstorm."

The remnants of her rebellion are inked on her body, in her flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes, in her slightly disheveled gray top and flyaway hair, and you want to kiss her senseless. That's a pretty common problem, these days, but one you'll happily accept. So when Annie asks if you wanna hit up another bar in the area, you answer, "No," so quickly that she gives you one of her Disney stares and asks if something's wrong.

You dip your head towards her, dropping your eyes to her lips, and clarify, just quietly enough for her to hear, "Nothing's wrong. I just don't want to spend any more time out tonight because I'd much rather take you home."

She blushes a deeper crimson at that as you walk towards your car. You manage to distract yourself with one of your mixes and sing along because otherwise you'll be too tempted to glance at Annie, which will undoubtedly draw your attention off the road.

**

You're more than happy to spend time in apartment 303, with Annie and her boys, especially because you know how much she loves them, and you've grown to usually enjoy their company, too. But coming back to your place has some very specific perks.

Namely, being able to start making out immediately after you shut the front door. You almost slow dance as you kiss with casual ease, and you twirl Annie around before lifting her onto the kitchen counter. She always squeals when you do it and you love the sound. Before you know it, she's instinctively opening her legs and wrapping them tight around your waist—the two of you have started working out regularly for, um, reasons, and Annie's regained _a lot_ of the flexibility she had in her cheerleader days—pulling you as close into her as she can, kissing you hard, but with a touch of tenderness.

It still blows your mind that you're the only woman she's kissed, the only woman she's fucked, because it feels like she has _years_ of practice. It's not the most feminist thought you've ever had, but you kinda love the feeling of possessiveness, that there aren't really any previous women for either of you. Sure, you'd made out with a handful of other women during your Introduction to Advanced Female Affection phase, but none of them marked your body all over with kisses and touches the way Annie has. None of them inspired you to lean into your dreadfully lame, romantic side (yes, you have one of those) like you do now, when you hoist Annie into your grasp to carry her to your bedroom. She winds her arms around your neck, smiling softly like you're everything she's been looking for. You're shocked that anyone could want you in that capacity, but you're trying to come to grips with it, because you want to be good enough—no, great enough—for her.

Roughly five minutes later, just after you've peeled her top off—if God exists, you'd be willing to accept Annie's boobs as proof of His or Her divine design of humans—and she's returning the favor, she says, with that half-worried, half-intensely-curious look she gets when broaching a new topic, "I was wondering. Have you ever used blindfolds during sex, Britta?"

A thrill shoots down your spine and triggers a wave of goosebumps to rise up on your arms. Your sex lives have been good to great together, after the first couple of awkward times before you'd sussed out the rhythms of each other's bodies, your likes and dislikes, but it's been a tiny bit tamer compared to how you were with some guys. The fact that Annie brought this up without any prompting excites you more than you can coherently explain at the moment, so you answer, "Yeah, probably a handful of times. I've usually liked it for foreplay, not as much during sex itself."

"Cool, cool," she mutters, nodding once as if she's trying to decide between getting a sesame or an everything bagel for breakfast before continuing, "I want to blindfold you. Maybe try out being a little more in control of things tonight." She blushes, as if she's just realizing what she said, then adds hastily, "Only if you're totally in favor of that and other potential sex-related activities."

Warmth pools and coils in your stomach at Annie's brazen declaration of desire, and she's barely finished her tacked-on consent request (you appreciate it, just the same) when you're nodding and you manage to murmur one enthusiastic "fuck yes" out before you pull her in for another kiss.

"I don't know if I have, like, a legit sex-designated blindfold," you comment, and Annie laughs at that, "but I _do_ have a sleep mask." You reluctantly pull away from her for a second and rummage around in the bottom drawer of your nightstand before grabbing it up with a triumphant flourish. You're about to slip it over your eyes and hesitate.

"You're still good with this?" Annie asks.

"Absolutely," you reassure her as you unhook your bra and toss it toward the pile of them in the front of your closet, then unbutton your jeans and tug them down your legs. "Just admiring the view."

Annie lets out a soft "aww" and helps get your jeans the rest of the way off, planting a kiss on your hipbone in the process before she shimmies out of her skirt and takes her bra off, too.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Annie," you murmur as she happily settles back next to you for more kisses. "I might be an idiot for willingly being unable to check you out," you say as you slip the mask down over your eyes.

"If you don't like it, you can just take it off," she answers, and it is a tad startling, hearing her voice but not seeing her; the mask does its job well.

"No, I'm good with it." You clumsily reach for Annie, accidentally poking her in the nose, and cringe. "Sorry!"

She giggles. "Here, allow me." She guides your hands to the back of her neck and you draw her in slowly for another deep kiss. Without sight, you hone in on different sensations: the sound of Annie's breathing when you make out with her, the feel of her hair in your hands, the salty tang of sweat beads on her neck.

"That's right," she whispers, partly devious, partly encouraging, as your kisses ebb and flow between rough and soft, deep and light, "feast on me with your other senses, Britta."

"Gladly," you whisper back, and you can feel each other's smiles as you keep kissing when she suddenly pulls back a hair. Her lips ghost over yours, and you can sense that her breath is nearly in your mouth when she pulls back again.

"I'm trying to make it a surprise when I kiss you, but you keep pursing your lips like you're ready for it," Annie half-grumbles, but it's laced with affection.

"Well, I can kind of feel you approaching. What do you want me to do, then?" you ask, giggling.

"Stop it," she chastises you gently, as if that's the only logical option. You hear her adorable pout in her response and you can't help but smirk, can't help but answer, "Or what?" to her little challenge. You're never one to back down from banter, even in bed.

"You'll just have to see, won't you?" she purrs back. You can't resist that, and you're genuinely curious as to what Annie has up her sleeve. Even as she tries to disguise her next approach toward your lips, you're so attuned to her body that you know when she's about to kiss you, so you pucker up to play the role of spoil-sport.

"Your choice has been noted," she whispers in a playfully threatening tone. You feel her eyes flutter close against your makeshift blindfold, and she starts straddling you gently when you both go in for deep, hungrier kisses. She's got her hands tangled up in your hair and you've got one hand cupping her cheek and the other tracing lazy circles around her nipples. She's adjusted herself on top of you, moving her right hand to your left collarbone as if to steady herself, and she's sitting up a tiny bit, but her left hand is still stroking lengths of hair at the base of your neck. You're on the verge of bucking your hips into her when she pulls your hair. Hard.

You gasp, your chin snapping up in response to the sudden tug, and Annie catches your lower lip with a fierce bite, sucking it into her mouth for longer than normal before she lets go. Her lips dart to your jawline to bite there, and she nibbles your earlobe before murmuring, in that mesmerizing voice that makes you nearly ache, "I _told_ you there'd be consequences for disobeying me, Britta."

" _Fuck_ , Annie," you whimper as she scrapes her teeth against your neck, bites and sucks her way to your clavicles and collarbones. You'd never liked it when guys tried to order you around in bed, but maybe they were all just terrible at it. Or maybe you just needed it all at once, like this, the way Annie's flipped a switch and taken charge. As much as you value communication in establishing consent, your body's more than happy to speak for itself right now as you grind into her, desperate for friction.

Annie clucks her tongue at you. "Did I say you could do that?"

"You little _minx_ ," you breathe, in near-total awe and highly impressed, wondering, " _Where the fuck did she learn this_?"

Your next thought goes barreling out the window when she brings one hand down to your throat and squeezes, just barely choking you before planting a soft kiss on your lips.

Again, that's not a move you've ever appreciated at all before, but maybe Annie's just your exception to everything, because you feel your eyes go back in your head and you're suddenly dizzy with desire.

"Britta, Britta, Britta," she sighs. "Do you _really_ think it's a good idea to agitate me when I'm in control of your pleasure?"

You've helped create a sex monster, you realize now. In another timeline, that might pose a serious problem, but it really won't weigh on your conscience at all as long as Annie only sleeps with you. And even though she can't see your eyes, you gawk at her just the same under your sleep mask turned blindfold (seriously, did Greendale now offer classes in dirty talk and seducing women?).

If any guy spoke to you this way, you'd have punched him in the dick.

With Annie, the same domineering behavior makes you want to devour her. She just took choking, one of your biggest turnoffs, and turned it into a potential new kink in the span of thirty seconds. Hell, she's upended a whole sexual _power dynamic_ that you've long detested—woman, subject, to be acted upon—and subverted it into something you want to explore further.

Even if you have to eat an unexpected slice of humble pie to do it.

So you shake your head, squeak out in response to her question, "No, Annie. I'm sorry."

"That's better," she hums appreciatively, and you're back to making out easily, moaning into each other's mouths when she whispers, "Now, tell me exactly what you want," in a low, husky voice that's practically dripping with desire.

You flicker through mental snapshots of possibilities—playing with her boobs, sliding her panties off, getting her to do either or both of those things for you—like you're taking a multiple choice test, except here, there are no wrong answers, and you suddenly know how to respond.

"I want you to use two fingers to play with yourself. And then let me taste you. Please."

"As you wish, milady," Annie whispers as she slithers off of you and onto her back, and you almost give a despairing groan because you're dating a woman who quotes _The Princess Bride_ in bed during sex, but then Annie gasps, sharp and harsh, as she starts fingering herself, and you can hear that she's soaking wet, and there's no way you're missing out on this. You start playing with her boobs, and you've had enough with the blindfold. You ask, between sucking on Annie's tits, "Can I take—"

You're not sure if Annie's nods and breathy moans of "yes, yes, yes" are exactly in response to your interrupted question, but you'll interpret them as if they are, so you do, and the sight of your eyes on her sparks an electric current through her body, because suddenly she's fingering herself harder, gasping out your name like a lifeline, over and over, "Britta, Britta, oh, fuck, _Britta,_ " and you love how it sounds coming off her lips, delight in the fact that you're always at the forefront of her fantasies when she masturbates. You kiss Annie hard, swirling your tongue in her mouth and swallowing her moans as her head arches back and she sinks deeper into the mattress, riding out her orgasm.

**

Her chest is still heaving and her hair is a bird's nest of tangles, but she's almost painfully beautiful in these moments. "Sorry," she says after finally catching her breath. "Got distracted, but…" she withdraws her fingers from herself and offers them both to you and you are _so_ glad you removed the blindfold, because watching Annie stare as you suck her sweet, tangy stickiness clean from her fingers with a noisy slurp gets you even more turned on for whatever's coming next, and you're just about to strip off your panties—probably could've done that earlier, since they're a mess now—when Annie turns toward you, catches your hands, and murmurs, "I wanna do that for you."

"As long as you hurry, because I'm stupidly horny," you answer, and Annie's laughing into the crook of your neck as she starts kissing her way down your body. One of your many favorite things about her is that she doesn't focus her attention solely on your lips and tits the way guys would (though you couldn't exactly blame them for being attracted to your _primo_ assets). She's equally attentive to your shoulders, your stomach, your hips, and your arms, whether she's using her mouth or her hands.

And then she gazes up at you with those big, breathtakingly innocent Disney eyes, glazed over and hooded with lust, as she starts tugging your panties down with her teeth, and you feel your mind slipping away again. You choke out a strangled, disbelieving _"_ How," because this woman cannot be real. But Annie keeps eye-fucking you, even as she's trailing kisses and bites along your inner thighs as you lift your hips up and she takes your panties all the way off. You're too proud to beg any more, at least for tonight, but you manage to shoot a glare down at Annie before you tilt your head back, hoping it conveys your frustration.

"Holy shit, babe, you're _so_ fucking wet," she breathes appreciatively as she grips the outside of your thighs, positioning herself just so, and the sound of her cursing turns you on even more and _finally_ her mouth is on you and her tongue is curling deep inside you.

"All for you," you gasp as you buck your hips towards her open mouth. You normally need a little bit of a warm-up before oral really gets you going, but with the extended foreplay and Annie's unexpected sexual power trip, you're already close to screaming for release. Annie lifts herself up for a second, her eyes flickering toward yours in a half-question that you answer by pushing her head back down towards your core. She starts rubbing your clit in a circle, massaging it faster and faster with her tongue, and you've never been more grateful for how you can use body language to communicate so flawlessly sometimes.

With how Annie's playing with you, you're not about to tip over the edge, you're gonna tumble headlong over it. During your more lucid build-ups to orgasms, you're easily capable of keeping up a steady stream of encouragement to play to Annie's praise kink, interspersed with simply crying out her name and some choice swearing. Right now, the only noises falling from your mouth are half-shattered moans and broken sighs, and Annie reads them perfectly, sliding the two fingers she'd fucked herself with deep inside you and curling them back. You just _groan_ , nearly delirious with pleasure as Annie pumps them in and out of you, hard, still sucking on your clit the way you like, and you dredge up the effort to pant, "You're s-so good to me, baby. So amazing. Please…don't…stop."

She looks up at you for the briefest instant and gives you a wicked grin because you can both feel how you're tightening up around her fingers. She keeps her relentless rhythm up until you're grinding against her fingers and palm as much as you can and you're chanting, in a low whisper, "Almost there, Annie. Almost there."

She takes her mouth off you for a fraction of a second to whisper fiercely, urgently, "I wanna taste you so bad, Britta. Just…just _use me_ until you fucking orgasm."

The words, on top of her insane talent for eating you out, are what get you, and you follow her directive, bucking against her, and your thighs are shaking as you cry out, "Annie, _Annie_ , yes, fuck, _yes_ " when you unravel. She's holding you so firmly against her mouth and fingers, moaning with her eyes shut, lost in her own lust as she tastes you, that you come undone once more before you collapse, your limbs splayed out, panting like when you made that almost-deadly sprint to the science lab during the last paintball game.

After a few moments, Annie extricates herself from between your legs to crawl up next to you, and you pass her a handful of tissues to clean up the mess you left on her face before she snuggles up to you.

You love being the big spoon in moments like this (though you'll never admit that to anyone but her).

She asks hesitantly, "Was any of that, like, the dirty talk at the end or me being in control with the blindfold…was any of it too much? There were some moments where I felt super empowered that I was," she takes a breath, looking for the right words, and goes on, "claiming and exploring this new side of my sexuality, and then at times I felt like a raging nymphomaniac. I just never want to make things in bed uncomfortable for you, Britta."

You stroke Annie's hair out of her face and press a gentle kiss to the top of her head just before she rolls over to look at you. "I appreciate that, and it wasn't too much," you reassure her. "I'm not sure that I'd want the blindfold and controlling each other thing to be part of all our sexual encounters, but…" you shiver as you recall the thrill of Annie's type A personality taking over. "As an occasional way to change things up, definitely," you finish your sentence. "Though next time _I'd_ like to be giving _you_ the orders." You shoot her a wolfish grin and she laughs into a light kiss. "As for the dirty talk…let's say we use personal discretion, depending on the situation? Though it was super hot."

She answers, "Sure, and thank you," before nodding happily at the resolution.

**

You ask, as the two of you are brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, "By the way, where'd you get the blindfold idea?"

You notice the blush creeping into her face as she ducks lower to the sink than is strictly necessary to spit out toothpaste and answers quietly, "Research."

"What kind of research?" you ask innocently as you throw on your pajamas, a pair of sweatpants and one of the many free t-shirts Greendale's given out over the years. "Did the library have some resources?"

"No, it was something I found online," she says. "In some database, I think."

"Oh, so like a scholarly journal article? Do you remember the title?" you ask, that teasing lilt in your voice growing ever more obvious. You and Annie don't needle each other too much, but every once in a while something like this comes up and you can't resist your more juvenile impulses.

"No, I don't," she replies quickly as you both climb into bed.

"Hmm…" You put on a great show of thinking. "Could it have maybe been on that prestigious research website, SpankBang? Or are you more of an XVideos woman, Annie?"

"Okay, okay, _yes_ , I got the idea from watching porn. Happy now?" she groans.

You give a smug smile at her admission. "Mmhmm."

"But it was tastefully done lesbian porn," Annie argues, needing to get the last word in, but here, it backfires, and you can see her wishing to cram that last sentence back into her mouth.

You cock your head sideways, quirk an eyebrow at her, and sweep your arm out, as if giving her the floor in a debate. "Go on," you grin. "Explain. What made it so tasteful?"

"It was…I don't know, it was raunchy, but it also seemed like the two women involved really cared for each other," she starts. "And the one giving orders to the one with the blindfold on did it in a really sensual way, and that appealed to me," she comments. "It reminded me of us, a little. Then when they were talking dirty when they went down on each other…that left an impression on me. I think I came, like, three times while I was watching the whole video," she admits, blushing furiously, and you feel your eyebrows jump into your hairline.

"So we should definitely add watching this video together to our sexcapades list?" you ask.

Despite her embarrassment, Annie nods, and you suddenly burst out laughing.

"What is it?"

"I'm just…" you shake your head and try to gather up your thoughts, because you have to explain where your mind just went. "Imagine if you could go back in time—with none of the science-y problems that always come up," you add hastily, because Annie's watched enough science fiction movies with Troy and Abed to have developed a few different theories on time travel. "To when you met all of us in the study group."

"O-kay," Annie replies a bit uncertainly.

"And you—as in, current Annie, who's right here—get to explain to your past self that, in a few years, you're going to realize you like girls," you keep going, and the light bulb pops on for Annie. "And you're going to date that blonde woman who's wearing stripper boots and looks like nothing but trouble. You're gonna have amazing sex with her, create a sexcapades list, and, one day, discuss tastefully made lesbian porn together."

Annie's laughing at your description now. "I think past me would've called current me a harlot and run away screaming," she jokes.

You press a kiss to her forehead. "Well, if it's any consolation, babe, I'm thrilled that you're _my_ harlot."

"And people say Britta Perry's not a romantic," she teases you. After a second, she asks, "What would you do in that situation? If current you went back there and said you'd come out as bi and that you'd eventually date me?"

You contemplate the question for a second. "In regards to us, I'd probably think, what the fuck, because I was majorly into bad boys at the time and a total nerd wouldn't have seemed like my type at all. No offense, Annie," you add quickly, but she's already dismissing the comment.

"I was wound up ridiculously tight my first year, it's fine."

You continue, "I'd hope current me would also be kind enough to warn past me to not fuck Jeff Winger, under any circumstances," and Annie falls into you as she cracks up at your sass. The comforting weight of her body on you, maybe, is what pushes the next two sentences out of you. "And I'd tell past me that you're worth the wait. That the two of us are gonna be really good for each other, even if she can't believe it then."

Every time you swear you've built up even the tiniest bit of immunity to Annie's Disney eyes, to her soft "aww," she goes and proves you completely the fuck wrong, and it happens again in this moment. She hugs you tight, presses a goodnight kiss to your lips, and rolls over before murmuring, "Night, Britta."

You kiss her back and whisper, "Night, Annie."

You don't get to sleep, not immediately, despite the two massive orgasms, and the more cynical part of your brain comes out to play, scowling, _"Four months and change isn't that long of a relationship."_

You don't even really go searching for a comeback, but you find the perfect one immediately. _"It's long enough to know that I love her."_

For once, your brain goes quiet, and you smile as you realize you've got some great news to share with Annie after the two of you wake up tomorrow morning.


End file.
